Whispers of Autumn
by dancewithdragons
Summary: "I knew you'd come for me, father," she said with tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You always do." In which Rhaenys Targaryen survives the Sack of King's Landing, while her mother and brother do not. AU. (Rated T)
1. Prologue

This will be mainly Rhaenys-centric, about her life if Rhaegar had won on the Trident, but had not returned in time to save Elia or Aegon and remarried to Cersei Lannister.

* * *

**Prologue**

Rhaenys stared at the dark ceiling of her bedchamber for hours, absentmindedly running her fingers over her kitten's soft black fur. It was well past midnight, but she was wide awake. It was not an uncommon thing for the Princess to be alert at such an hour now that her father was away, but tonight the reason was not that she missed Rhaegar.

Outside her window, beyond the castle courtyard, the sound of shouting and clashing steel raged on, rendering the very idea of sleep uncountable. But she was tired, that much was certain, and she yawned quietly as Balerion mewed and curled up beside her, purring. "Come along, then," she whispered to the kitten, pulling him up in her arms and sliding out of her bed. If rest wouldn't come in her own room, perhaps a change of scenery would help.

She opened her door slowly, popping her head into the corridor to inspect which guards were on duty. She noticed that the hall was void of life, not a sound echoing off the tall stoney walls but for her footsteps as she padded along the dark passageways. Where were the knights? Where were the soldiers? She'd not seen the castle so barren in her whole eight years.

Tip toeing towards the grand staircase, Rhaenys paused and peered around the railing, clutching her small cat close as she heard the faint sound of snoring emanate from the nursery just beside the stairs. _Mother_, she thought with a small smile as she proceeded to climb the steps that would lead to the third level of the castle, where her father's chamber was. Elia had taken to sleeping in Aegon's room since Rhaegar had gone away to war; the child was much like his sister in the aspect that he drifted to dreams better with his father home.

As she moved across the silverstone floors, the Princess kept an eye out for members of the Kingsguard; Jaime Lannister in particular. She knew he'd not ridden out with her father's men when the war began, and he'd caught her sneaking to Rhaegar's room many a time before, always carrying her back to her room and tucking her in without a word.

When she was sure that the golden knight was no where to be found, she took a daring risk and scurried across the large four-way crossing that was directly in front of her father's chambers and slipped through the ajar door, shutting it and setting Balerion on the bed. The kitten pawed at the covers, meowing for attention as Rhaenys lit the torches along the sides of the walls, the room beginning to glow with a dim light.

"Be quiet, Balerion, or someone might hear you!" She whispered frantically to the black fur ball, who began to purr as she ran a hand along his spine and across his long, fluffy tail.

The room still smelled of her father, and she inhaled, dark eyes growing misty. She missed her father more than anything or anyone, and as her mind flooded with memories of the time they shared together over the last few years, she searched through his drawers and reached for a lavender-dyed nightshirt. It was her father's favorite, and as she pulled it over her head and slipped her arms into the overly large arm-holes, she felt closer to Rhaegar.

She crawled up onto his bed and settled under a thin layer of fur lined covers, pulling her kitten up with her and resting him beside her. "He'll be home soon," she told her cat, rubbing his side as he kneaded her hip with his tiny claws. "And when he gets back, he'll tell us all about his adventures."

Without the thundering noise of swords clanking together, Rhaenys found rest easily, and soon she'd nodded off, woken only when cries of men sounded at the door. She collected Balerion in a freight, eyes growing wide as she listened to men be slaughtered, the only barrier that protected her being a simple wooden door.

Thinking on her toes, the Princess jumped off of the tall bed and lifted the skirts around the base of the frame, huddling underneath the furniture with her kitten clawing at the floor in distress. He meowed, loudly at that, and she covered his little mouth with her hand as she pulled the cloth that surrounded her hiding place up slightly and peeked out to see the shadows of footsteps. They appeared to be in a dance of iron as she heard them clash swords and grunt in frustration until eventually the sound of metal piercing skin and sliding up one's abdomen filled the little girl's ears, and she winced, releasing the bedskirt and taking her fat black kitten with her to where she hunched against the wall, pulling the loose cloth of her father's shirt closer to her body.

Balerion mewed again and again, and she stuffed him into her shirt to muffle the noise, but it seemed to be too late, and the door to Rhaegar's bedchamber creaked open and closed. There was the heavy smack of iron boots against cold stone floors, and she flinched with every step that got closer to the bed. Her kitten hissed and clawed at her chest when the mystery knight stomped his boot, and Rhaenys couldn't conceal the cry of pain that came with the beads of blood dripping from where her heart thumped as loud as a drum.

The small fat cat clawed its way from the shirt and dashed from under the bed before she could catch it, and she reached out for its tail, missing it by only a hair's width. "Balerion, no!" She sobbed, voice choked through the forceful tears that jerked her whole body now as she heard a low, rumbling chuckle.

"Come out, come out, Princess," came a deep voice, slurred slightly, and she whimpered as a hand, gloved and clad in armor both, reached under the bed and grabbed hold of her wrist, dragging her from were she was safest.

She was eye to eye with a pig-faced man as she was held up by the forearm. He had dark, cruel eyes and his breath smelled like wine, making her want to cringe. "Please," she pleaded, "please let me go! I won't tell, I promise, just let me go!"

The man's small, piggy eyes inspected her top to bottom before he threw her down onto the bed and grinned, flashing sharp, yellow teeth. "You're a pretty thing," he told her, nodding and reaching behind him, where she heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed. "I'm sure you'll look lovely in red."

"No!" She screamed, wrenching away and tumbling to the floor. She cried out in a pain all anew as she landed brusquely on her wrist, the same that he'd held her up by, and she looked down, horrified as it twisted in a fashion that was not at all normal. The man went after her, angry now that he had to chase her, and she felt hot tears sting her eyes as he ripped at her hair and yanked her to the ground. "Please," she begged quickly. "I'll be good and I won't do anything wrong, just release me!"

He shook his head and raised the dagger. "Little girls should respect their elders," he muttered maliciously as he plunged the knife down- but there was a booming call of her name, and Rhaenys knew the voice all too well.

"Father, I'm here!" She all but screamed, grabbing the man's arm with her tiny hands as he worked to push the steel into her heart, holding him off. "Father!"

The door burst open, kicked down by two men clad in what Rhaenys recognized as the white, scaly Kingsguard armor, and in swept a rush of men, all of whom she knew and had never felt more thankful to see. Barristan Selmy, Oswell Whent, Gerold Hightower, Jaime Lannister, Lewyn Martell. She stared up at her great-uncle, Lewyn Martell, as he shoved the man that hovered over her to the ground and used the attacker's own dagger to stab into the man's throat.

It was when she felt arms rush around her and tears of another person on her shoulder, seeping through the lavender nightshirt, that she not only saw her father, but felt as he embraced her. "Oh, my sweet girl," he murmured into the crook of her neck, rubbing her back. "I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner."

Rhaenys clutched her father tight, sobbing on him, the tears sliding off of his armor and trickling to the ground. "Father, I tried to hide, but Balerion..." She didn't say anymore, just relished in the feel of her father's hug. She'd missed him for so many months while he was away, and he'd just come in and saved her life. "Don't leave anymore," she whispered to him, "please don't leave."

"Never again," he replied, and when she whimpered because her twisted wrist was pressing too close to his armor, he released her and called for a maester, pulling her onto his lap as he sat down on the bed instead.

As Pycelle hurried into the room and made quick work of wrapping the Princess' wrist and putting a salve on the claw marks that marred her chest, Rhaenys leaned into Rhaegar, his straight silver strands flowing and mixing in with her dark ringlets as he bent down and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I knew you'd come for me, father," she said with tears still trickling down her cheeks. "You always do."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One; Family**  
**King's Landing, 283AL**

The Princess sat by her father in the Sept of Baelor, staring at the two caskets behind the High Septon. She cared not for what the fat, richly dressed man preached of, she only cared that her mother and brother were now dead.

The Rebellion had torn her family apart, of that she knew even in her eight years, and as her eyes watered not for the first time that day, she steeled herself. Her mother would not want her to cry. Her brother would not want her to be so angry. But she was.

It had been over a young northern girl, they said, with hair like molasses and eyes like ice. Rhaenys had been at Harrenhal when he crowned the girl, but she never thought at the time that it would lead to so much pain.

The Septon called for the immediate family to rise and say their final farewells, and Rhaenys stood, walking directly to her mother and kneeling by her side. The corpses didn't yet smell of death. In fact, the Princess could still smell blood oranges on Elia. Another wave of grief overtook her and she couldn't stop the sob that breached her icy composure.

It had been only hours before Rhaenys sneaked her way to her father's chamber that her mother had tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead, murmuring a tale of Dorne and bidding her a good night. "I love you, Rhaenys, my sweet," she reminded her daughter before she shut the door, and as she leaned over her mother's dead body, Rhaenys wished she'd replied.

But she never said she loved her mother back that night, for she'd been too worried over if Balerion was comfortable on the covers. "I love you mother," she whispered through stifled tears, and she reached out, taking her mother's cold, hard hand and holding it. It didn't hold back, but Rhaenys didn't care. It would be the last time she got to hold her mother's hand. The last time she could see her beautiful face, looking so peaceful and somber at the same time. "I love you so much, and I'll never forget you."

She could still see where Elia's skin was torn by Gregor Clegane's nails as he forced her to submit to his desires. Where his sword had pierced her belly countless times had caused the gown to indent into Elia's body. She was dressed in a beautiful gown of ivory with Myrish lace covering her neck and arms, pearls of freshwater buttoning down the bodice and down the sleeves, all white; even the lilies and roses she held were alabaster. Her black hair had been brushed until the curls fell calmly to her hips and she's been donned in her favorite jewels- all in orange and red. Martell colors.

Rhaenys felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see her father, who pressed his lips to her temple as she nodded, wiping tears as she kissed her mother's stiff cheek before she slowly made her way to Aegon's burialbed.

As soon as she laid her eyes on the babe, she'd wanted to vomit. Half of his skull had been smashed in and his brain was oozing from his head. He looked like he was crying still, face locked in perpetual pain, and the Princess could still see the streams of dried tears on his cheeks. "My little brother," she murmured through hot floods of tears. "Little Aegon."

It had not been so long ago that she'd laid with him in the nursery and tickled him until he cried, kissing his belly and sharing with him stories of the ancient dragons, Balerion, Vhagar, and Meraxes.

She touched his chin softly with her fingertip, feeling her lip quiver as she leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to each of his eyelids. "Rest now, brother," she whispered against his rotting flesh, much more deteriorated than her mother's. "I love you."

She stood and straightened out her mourning blacks, repositioning her silver tiara, the tear-cut amethyst gem falling just above the middle of her brows, over the bridge of her nose. Rhaegar stood as well, and offered her his arm, but she just walked ahead of him, the sounds of guards armor clanking after her.

She'd been appointed two guards, Lewyn Martell and Gerold Hightower of the Kingsguard, after the attempt on her life by Ser Amory Lorch. She was glad her great-uncle was one of the knights given to her by her father, and she assumed he knew she would be. He always knew what was best for her. She slowed her pace so that her guards could catch up, and then stopped all together, turning to her great-uncle, a sudden curiosity eating at her. "Would you not like to say your last goodbye to my mother?" She asked Lewyn, raising a brow.

He shook his head. "I'll not be needing to say my last goodbye, Princess. I'll see her again one day, when it's my turn to follow the gods to the heavens."

She clutched his arm with her good hand, the broken being held close to her torso with a sling that wrapped around her neck, and looked up at him with worried eyes. "Your turn won't be soon, will it?" She asked, fearful. He was the last of the Dornish family she had left in King's Landing, and if she were to be stranded without him she didn't know what she'd do.

"No, Princess." Lewyn chuckled and patted the hand that held his arm so tightly. She wondered how he could laugh while her mother and brother rotted in their caskets, while she worried about his life or death, and frowned.

"When is Viserys coming home?" She asked him, deciding to ignore the frustrations that blossomed in her mind. She missed her Uncle nearly as much as she had missed her father, and he'd been gone for almost as long. "And Grandmother, will she be coming as well?"

Ser Gerold spoke then, nodding. "Yes, I'm certain she will, Your Grace," he said, looking straight ahead, towards the streets of King's Landing. "I expect they'll arrive in a month's time."

"And Ser Arthur Dayne and Lady Ashara? Will they be coming back too?" Her voice was growing higher with anticipation for the two people who were her mother's closest friends, and like parents to Rhaenys. "Will they?"

Lewyn rolled his dark eyes, black hair tickling at the base of his neck when his head bobbed up and down. "They'll be returning, Princess," he said, and Rhaenys sighed in relief, leaning slightly onto him as they strolled. "Are you tired, Your Grace?"

She shook her head at first, but in truth, the Princess had gotten little rest since she'd been informed of the deaths of Elia and Aegon, and as she walked on, the depths of her words began to sink into her. "Yes," she admitted, and looked back to where her father trailed silently behind, about ten feet away. He looked distracted, sad, and she frowned. She hadn't meant to be cold when she passed him in the Sept, she just needed a moment to compose herself.

Rhaenys raised her arms out to him and he looked down at her, smiling sullenly. "Come here, sweet girl," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close as her body automatically molded into his embrace, her arms around his neck as she nuzzled closer to him.

"I love you, father," she said quietly, words meant just for him, and he began to rub soothing circles on her back with his hand.

"As I love you, darling," he replied, giving her guards leave as he carried her back to the Red Keep.

When she woke, Rhaenys was in her bed, Balerion was resting beside her and the shades had been firmly shut, tiara on the bedside table. "Father," she called, rubbing her eyes tiredly. There was a shuffling at the foot of her bed and she focused in on her father as he stood up from the chair he'd been slouched over in.

"Yes, my sweet?" He pulled his boots off and Rhaenys scooted over, patting the bed and indicating for him to lay down with her. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

Upset, angry, mortified, scarred, afraid, alone. Rhaenys wrapped her arms around her father's neck and curled close to him, resting her head on his strong chest, feeling his heart beat. Even_ that_ sounded sad. "I miss her. And him." Her voice was a whisper when she spoke, though she wanted to scream the words. How dare Gregor Clegane take her mother and brother from her. Elia was a Princess of Dorne, the wife to the heir to the Iron Throne and mother of two children. Her heart ached and she felt tears coming to her eyes.

She felt Rhaegar shift underneath her, to wrap around her protectively. He must have shared her same sentiments. "I know, darling. I do too. I'll always miss them. I loved them both very much." Melancholic tones drenched her father's reply, and she felt one of his tears dribble to her forehead.

"Why did you take the girl?" Rhaenys asked quietly, looking up at him. "Aegon and mother would still be here if you didn't take her away."

The Prince didn't look at his daughter in the eyes for a very long time, and instead focused his gaze on where he was toying with one of her dark curls. After a heaving sigh that rocked her whole body from where she lay across his chest, Rhaegar spoke. "Whatever the reason, Rhaenys, I promise that it is not more important than you. I was lost, but I'm back, and I'll not leave again."

He pulled her in closer and she kissed his cheek. He doted on her, she knew, and this wouldn't be easy for either of them; Rhaegar because he had to admit his wrongs and own up to them by looking at her every day, Rhaenys because she no longer had her mother or little brother, and knew her father's decision to take the northern girl was the reason why. "Father?"

"Yes, Rhaenys?"

"Will I get lost, too?" She looked up at him, at his indigo eyes, and frowned. "I don't want to get lost like you did."

He sighed deeply and stared down at his daughter, the spitting image of the wife he'd just lost. "I hope you never do," he told her softly. "But I'll always be here to bring you back." At the light of her tiny smile, the Prince held Rhaenys closer and tugged at her ringlets with a gentle hand. "There is my beautiful girl," he exclaimed, clasping his hands on her cheeks and pinching them. "You smile just like your mother."

They both cried at that, and the Princess was thankful that the gods had not claimed both of her parents. She would have been nothing without her father. A hollow shell with no heart left in her. "Will you tell me about her?" She asked, pulling Balerion in between them. "What she was like?"

Rhaegar's silver brow rose. "You know what she was like, Rhaenys."

"But tell me about her anyways," she said, shifting the arm that was cradled in the silk sling.

He smiled sadly down at his daughter, and she could see pale tears still holding in his deep blue-violet eyes. "She was very much like you," he told her, and she closed her eyes, petting her fat kitten with a soft hand. "When we were first married, and we found out we were going to have you, your mother had never been more excited..."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two; Dragon Strength**  
**King's Landing, 283AL**

Rhaegar slammed his fist down on the table and held a cold stare with his father. "You dare suggest a marriage, only a moon's turn since Elia's death? Since Aegon's? I will not stand for it."

Aerys just eyed his eldest son with a cool indifference, waiting for him to finish. When it was clear that the Prince was done speaking for the moment, the King sat up higher and folded his hands in front of him on the table, nails as long as a large dagger scraping against the wood. "Cersei Lannister is a beautiful girl, much like her lovely deceased mother. She's sharp and witty, and her father saved King's Landing."

"Saved it? His men _murdered_ my wife and son, and attacked my daughter. I wouldn't call that _saving_." He folded his arms and leaned back in his seat, sinking into the velvets of it, all red and black. Red like the blood he saw on the nursery walls when Gregor Clegane had bashed Aegon's head against them, and black like the blade he'd seen Lewyn Martell shove into the neck of Ser Amory Lorch after he'd attempted to slay Rhaenys, paralyzing the knight though not killing him.

"Lord Lannister's men defended the city against the rebels, Your Grace. He played no part in the murders of Elia Martell or Prince Aegon, nor the attack on the Princess Rhaenys," came Varys' soft, whispering voice. He was very much in support of having a lioness Queen, and not one bit did he think on the fact that the mourning period for Elia and Aegon was not yet over. "Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane acted on behalf of the fact that they did not agree with the decision Lord Tywin made in supporting your claim to the Throne over Robert Baratheon's."

The Prince looked over the eunuch and narrowed his eyes. "Elia _Targaryen_. Besides, Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane were the bannermen of Tywin Lannister, the Great Lion himself. Do you expect me to believe they acted on their own free will?"

"_I_ expect you to believe it," Aerys said with clear diction. "For why else would he send these?" He called for his squire, one of the roses of Highgarden, a tall and slightly pudgy boy with honey gold eyes and long, lazy brown curls, not terribly much younger than Rhaegar himself. "Garlan, go fetch me the gift I received from Lord Tywin this morn."

"Yes, Your Grace." The boy nodded and turned, leaving without another word. When he returned, he set a large and ornate chest of gold painted oak on the table, the lock being molded as a bright golden lion's mouth. "Here, Your Grace."

"Yes, yes, go now." Aerys shooed him away and pushed the box towards his son, smiling wryly. "Go on, sweet child, open the present."

Rhaegar glanced at his father with confusion before sighing and unlocking the chest, shoving the top open. Immediately the room reeked of death and the Prince fought to not gag as he leaned over the trunk. Inside, atop of plush ruby silks and crimson velvets, lay two heads, the bases covered in tar. One was small and piggish, with tiny eyes and a scowl permanently glued to his mouth. The other head was rather large, with short cut straight black hair and angry grey eyes, hooked nose curling madly.

"What is this?" He asked his father, not able to look up from the box.

"The heads of Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane. The men who killed your wife and son, and hurt your daughter. They are there, cut off personally by my Hand to be given from me to you. As a pre betrothal gift, if I'm correct." The King ran his nails through his scraggly silver-gold beard and stared icily at his first born. "You're a smart boy, are you not, Rhaegar? Yes? Then you'll do as I say as your King and your father. You will marry the Lannister girl and bring an alliance on the family that saved our city."

"I _will not_." Rhaegar stood and shoved his chair into the table, making Varys jump while Aerys stayed completely still. "I will marry no woman, and Rhaenys will be my heir and one day she'll be Queen of Westeros."

"Will she?" Aerys stood as well, reaching out across the table and touching his son's fuzzing cheek with his fingernail. "I wonder, Rhaegar, if you remember Rhaenyra Targaryen, your great ancestor. She was the only child of King Viserys the First for many a year until he eventually remarried a Hightower girl. When their sons claimed the throne after his death, Rhaenyra took to war with them. The Dance of Dragons. Tell me what happened to her, Rhaegar. Tell your poor father of her demise."

Rhaegar's jaw set and he silently glared at the man who sired him. He was called the Mad King, but there were moments where he had such a clarity that he wondered if it was all just an act. "She was eaten by her half brother's dragon while her son watched, killed, named a traitor. You know as well as I that it would be Viserys who ascended to the Throne over Rhaenys. Women weren't meant to rule, Rhaegar. Just look at Rhaella. Frail, weak, a scab on her good name."

"My mother is a good woman," he hissed in defense, clenching his fists. "And is your sister, wife, and Queen."

"_Was_ my sister, wife, and Queen," said Aerys. "_Was_ your mother."

"What do you mean by that?" He looked to the Spider, but the eunuch gave way to no secrets, and only turned away, staring out the window with indifference.

The King waved his hand at his son, nodding towards the door. "Leave me, I am growing tired of your ignorance. Well, what are you waiting for? Run along, go fetch that snake daughter of yours and hurry to the docks. I'm sure your brother will be in want of a warm welcome."

It didn't take long for the Prince to find his daughter, sitting in a gown of inky silk with Ser Lewyn Martell as he told her a tale of his home in Dorne. "I remember when your mother was just a girl, no older than you. She used to sit under the trees and talk with your Uncle Oberyn from dawn to dusk, eating blood oranges and playing Cyvasse. He loved your mother greatly, your Uncle. I assume he'll be wanting to come up and see you very soon. Or perhaps you could venture down to the Water Gardens and see your cousin Arianne. She'd like that very much I'm sure."

"I don't think Father would let me go... He never has before." Rhaenys looked down and frowned, brown curls falling past her shoulders, and Rhaegar restrained a gasp when he realized just how much she looked like her mother, though he saw himself in her as well for the first time in years. In the curve of her nose and her ears and the way her brown eyes were tinted with violet in the right light.

"Of course I'd let you go, Rhaenys," Rhaegar said, stepping into the room. It was his personal library, and his daughter was sitting on a lounge couch while his wife's uncle sat across from her on the floor of white marble. "But not so soon."

"Father," Rhaenys greeted, standing and holding him close, her broken wrist only wrapped in a plaster cast now that it was better. "Why can't we go yet? I think that Uncle Doran and Uncle Oberyn want to see me. They wrote to me about how much they miss me." She pointed to the letters that sat on the tabletop between the lounge couch and the wall that Lewyn was slumped on, though he stood now that his Prince had entered.

"Excuse me, Your Grace, I was just . . ."

". . . Worry you not, I've no anger with you for telling my daughter about her mother." Rhaegar smiled at the man and nodded when he requested to join his brothers at arms for a meal. "Go, Lewyn. I'll see my daughter to the docks." Rhaenys kissed her Great-Uncle's cheek and smiled at him before he walked off with Ser Gerold Hightower.

Pulling her to his hip and holding her close, the Prince and Princess made their way to the Blackwater Bay, where his brother Viserys would be arriving by ship with his mother, Queen Rhaella, and Ser Willem Darry. Rhaenys wen on about how much she missed Viserys and that she hoped that her Grandmother hadn't had the baby that she'd been carrying yet because she wanted to be there to help, and that she liked the name Daenerys because that was what she and Rhaella had agreed on.

"Daenerys?" Rhaegar asked, raising a silver brow. "Why that name?"

"Because, Father, Princess Daenerys wed Lord Maron Martell and brought Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms," she said as though he were the child and she were the adult. "Mother was a Martell and lived in Dorne, so we thought it was the perfect name."

He laughed and kissed his daughter's temple. "And how do you know it will be a girl?" He inquired.

"Because Viserys said that he wanted a little sister," said Rhaenys. "He said that we could treat her like our baby for practice before we get married."

"Married?" Rhaegar's face fell to sullen seriousness. "You'll not be marrying Viserys." He meant to put an end to the hideous lineage that he was so positive aided the madness that was true to the Targaryens. His family would be no laughing stock and his daughter would not marry his brother, no matter their childish affections.

"But Father!" Rhaenys leaned away from him, eyes wide in shock. The sun glittered on her face, highlighting the violet behind the dark, rich brown of her irises. "He promised he'd marry me!" Her mouth curved down and she looked away from him. "He said we'd be as happy as you and mother were."

The Prince pursed his lips and sighed inwardly. He'd known that Viserys had been close to Rhaenys, but not like this. "We'll speak of this later. Smile, love, look, there's the ship." He pointed to it with the arm he wasn't using to hold his daughter up and all of her sadness was forgotten as she clapped her hands and squirmed from his arms, running towards where it was just docking.

He followed and held her hand as soon as he caught up with her, pulling her back so that she didn't run straight into the water. The ramp came crashing onto the dock and she squealed anxiously as she waited for Viserys and Rhaella. It was the happiest he'd seen her in the whole month or so since he'd stormed into his chambers to find that she was being attacked by the man who served his father's Hand.

Rhaegar grew darker then, and he knew they all could see, but he didn't care. He'd loved his wife despite it all, and had loved his son immensely, and his father hadn't the right, as King or no, to marry him off to the daughter of Tywin Lannister. He didn't care that she was pretty or rich or young, he would chose Elia over her again and again. He hadn't even had time to himself to grieve since he'd been home, because between trying to help restore the city and taking care of Rhaenys, he'd been left with little enough time to eat, sleep, or bathe.

He felt Rhaenys rip her hand from his and watched absentmindedly as she ran up to the base of the plank, where Viserys had begun walking down. He looked down at his niece with dark, angry violet eyes, but when she went to embrace him he held her back with all the desperation that had escaped his irises. Rhaegar raised a brow at the interaction, and then he heard the sounds of a mewling babe and looked up at the deck of the ship.

Ser Willem Darry carried down a baby alone, his eyes baggy and puffy with large dark circles, and the baby was red faced. He went to it and took it from the man, who expressed his apologies, though the Prince did not hear. _So this was what Father meant when he said_ _was_.

"The storm was so great and the Queen was so weak," Ser Willem said softly. "We tried our best to save her, we truly did, but she insisted that the babe needed to be taken care of more than she."

Rhaegar looked at the man and tried his best to steel himself. Not only was his wife gone, as well as his son, but his mother had perished now, and in her place was a little babe with tufts of silver hair, who calmed slightly in his arms and stared up at him with large, trusting purple eyes.

"A Princess, Your Grace," said the gentle knight. "The Queen Rhaella wished to name her Daenerys."

"Daenerys," Rhaegar repeated to the child, who then turned to reach for Rhaenys, crying for her. His daughter looked up from where she'd been crying onto Viserys' shoulder, and his brother looked up too, staring at the babe with a mixture of pain and hatred in his eyes. "Come, Rhaenys," he said, "meet your Aunt."

"An Aunt," she breathed, sniffling. She looked to Viserys as though asking permission, and only when he reluctantly nodded did she go to the baby, accepting it as it clenched its fists in her direction. The little Princess clung to Rhaenys and looked at her brother over brown curls, opening her hand for him, trying to grab him.

He touched her soft head but no more before he kissed Rhaenys' cheek and hugged Rhaegar quickly, leaving. The Prince ordered a few knights to follow him and keep him safe, as well as others to take his things to his room. "Ser Willem Darry, please take the Princess to the nurs-" he stopped himself. There was still blood on the walls, where the red would stain it forever. "Take the Princess Daenerys to my chambers and have a few maids set up a crib."

"At once, Your Grace," the man said, taking the Princess and turning to leave.

Rhaegar watched the man go and felt his heart clench in pain and longing for his mother, who always spoke so softly to him and treated him as no other mother could treat their son. She loved him much, he knew, just as he had loved her. When the babe was out of sight, the Prince knelt down in front of his daughter and straightened out her gown, sighing. "What were you and Viserys talking about?" He asked, wiping tears from her cheeks, trying to stay strong for her. While he'd lost his mother, she'd also lost her Grandmother, who was like a second maternal figure to the child.

She wiped one of the tears from under his eyes, tears he didn't know were falling, and smiled sadly. "He said he misses Grandmother Rhaella, and I said I missed her too, and Mother and Aegon. And then he said we must have strength."

He nodded. "We must have strength indeed. The strength of Kings, darling Rhaenys."

"Of dragons," she corrected, nodding her head just once before her father gathered her up and began carrying her to where Viserys had sauntered off to. _Indeed_, Rhaegar thought, though he knew even Dragon Strength wouldn't see him through this; for as strong as dragons were, lions and spiders were just as cunning.

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**Thank you all for the support, reviews, follows, and favorites! In regards to popular questions being asked...**

**Why is Rhaegar marrying Cersei if Tywin ordered the deaths of Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys?**: If I haven't explained enough already, here is a more in depth description of what happened. After Rhaegar defeated Robert at the Trident, Tywin's gameplan (of which was unbeknownst to any in King's Landing aside from possibly Varys) changed and he sought to fight the rebels from the city rather than lead them inside. Ser Amory Lorch and Gregor Clegane acted against Lord Tywin's change of plans however and took matters into their own hands, trying to please their lord and change his mind about keeping the Targaryens on the throne. That, however, resulted in the loss of Elia's and Aegon's lives, and that of their own lives, though Tywin did nothing to aid in their actions and took their heads for the King and Rhaegar in apology. I hope that is well enough explained... If not, please let me know what you need clarification on.

**Will Jon be coming to King's Landing/Is he alive and in the story?**: Yes, Jon is alive and will join in the story in later chapters. As for now, he isn't on his way to King's Landing, but I won't reveal too much of his storyline, because I don't want to give it all away!

**What of Lyanna?**: I will say that she is currently in Winterfell and nothing else.

**Why is Rhaenys older than canon?**: I made her eight instead of four because it would be much easier to work with for this fanfiction, as well as the fact that her age would be closer to the boys of Westeros at the time as well, for reasons that I will keep to myself for now, but you will read about later on.

**Please, don't shy from giving me feedback! It's very helpful and gives me tons of incentive to keep going! Enjoy, sweelings. :)**


	4. Chapter 3

Apologies in advance for my absence and for the length of the update. Forgive me.

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**Chapter Three; Welcoming a Lioness  
****King's Landing, 283AL**

He hadn't been away from King's Landing for more than two moon turns in total, but everything seemed so different. The halls were smaller, the candles dimmer, the rooms quieter. It had never been so dreary when his mother had lived, but she was gone now and in her place was a squealing babe.

The baby was whining even now, as they stood at the Lion's Gate, awaiting the woman who was to be the new Princess. Who was to, eventually, be the Queen, in place of his mother and in place of Elia. He felt a hand cover his own and hold on tight, and he looked down at Rhaenys. The poor sweet thing, who was too upset to look anywhere but the ground.

She looked immaculate, wearing a long gown of black with diamonds speckled over the bodice, a sash of crimson tied around her waist and a tiara with an egg-sized ruby set in it over her brow. Her brown curls were brushed through and she wore her mother's necklace; a red sun one a silver chain that fell low on her chest. Her eyes looked violet in the sunlight, he noticed, as she dared a look up at him.

His niece was beautiful, Viserys couldn't deny that. She was darling and sweet and better than he. She had his mother's grace and her mother's kindness, but above all she had a gentle heart. He had never known anyone with one gentler. He could remember when they were younger and he had screamed at her for accidentally knocking his card-castle down, and all she did was apologize and do her best to build it back up. She didn't fight him back or defend herself, simply understood her wrong and tried to fix it. He admired her for that.

He admire her even more now as she gripped his hand and forced the wetness in her eyes to recede. Her mother and brother were not three moons dead and her father was already marrying another, a maiden with golden hair and eyes like summer grass, yet she did not cry and shout and beg her father to let her return to her chambers, or even to not marry the lady lion.

In fact, when Rhaegar told Rhaenys of his betrothal to Cersei Lannister, the princess had calmly asked why. When told the reason, she nodded and was off to bed as if she'd heard nothing.

Her cool indifference was almost lost on her now, however, and Viserys could see the battle within her as it raged. "Strong," he whispered to her, bending down low to her ear and pressing a kiss to the lobe. "You must stay strong."

She nodded and leaned into him further, and he took her weight easily. It was not uncommon that she sought him out for comfort, nor was it uncommon for him to seek her out. They shared a bond, a kinship, and they understood each other more than his brother Rhaegar was comfortable with.

Often his brother would scold him for their close relationship, saying that it would only bring heartache later on when they were married off, saying that the Targaryen House would not be a laughing stock because he and Rhaenys shared childish affection.

But to Viserys it wasn't childish affection. He was just shy of being a man grown and knew what he wanted. And he wanted Rhaenys. His sweet and loving princess. He felt his heart rip as a tear rolled down her cheek and he swiftly wiped it away. "When this is over, I'll take you to the star gardens and we'll look at Rhaenys' Hill, yes?" The ancient dragon pit was her favorite thing to learn about when she was being taught her histories, and even now the idea of the fire-breathing beasts living in Westeros fascinated her.

She tried a smile and his heart pumped just a little bit faster, but it fell all too soon as one of the guardsmen screamed for the gate to be opened, the sound of wheels resonating in the small courtyard where white roses and golden fountains and statues of lions sat vigil, virtually untouched for years.

A wheelhouse with ten alabaster drafts stormed the entrance. It was double-decked and gilded with gold, dark wood polished and glimmering in the light of the day, red and gold lions painted on the harnesses of the horses and the armor of the horseman alike. Behind the wheelhouse were knights and soldiers, all in enameled red plate and holding golden-crested helms under their arms. There were at least fifty on either side of the carriage.

Ser Jaime Lannister, who stood and waited patiently alongside his father, went to the wheelhouse and slowly unclasped the lock on the door, opening it. Curtains of shimmering ivory slipped from the cabinet like a waterfall and stairs of painted crimson were slid out before a single foot stepped outside. It was dainty, covered by a golden sandal.

The foot turned into a leg with turned into a full figure, and he held Rhaenys' hand tighter as she tensed. Cersei Lannister was mere feet before them, smiling with excitement. Her hair, as sunny as the light that cascaded over them, was left long and flowing, the crimps of the previous night's braids softly brushed through. She wore a deep ruby gown that fit her figure as well as a glove fit a hand, and flared into a full skirt that was embroidered in golden lions running with black dragons. _A sign of her fealty to House Targeryen. To Rhaegar_. She wore a different ring on each finger and a thick golden chain around her neck with a large lion pendant on it. Her eyes held less luster than the tales told and her hair was not quite spun gold, but there was no doubt that Lady Cersei was a lovely woman.

"Lady Cersei of House Lannister," announced the royal steward.

She bowed low before Rhaegar and his father, the king, and her father strode forth the take her arm, her twin slinking back to the side but his eyes never leaving her. "Your Royal Majesties," she said in a voice as light as air. "How very pleased I am to make an acquaintance."

Viserys looked up to his brother, focused on his pursed lips and the sadness in his eyes as he bowed back to her. "My lady, please. The pleasure is all mine. Welcome to King's Landing." His words were more forced than willed, though to an untrained ear it could easily have been mistaken for happiness.

"Quite like your mother," King Aerys commented as she stepped closer. "Such a pretty little lion you have become, my dear. Quite like Joanna_ indeed._"

To her avail, Lady Cersei's smile did not falter, though the glee in her eyes did. "I appreciate your kindness, Your Grace. I do not deserve such high praises." She dipped her head and looked to Rhaegar, then to Rhaenys and Viserys, and then to little Daenerys who was struggling to reach Rhaenys in Willem Darry's arms. His sister had a queer love for his princess, but then again, if he was to question Daenerys' love for her he might as well question his own too, and there was no way he could explain why he was so connected to Rhaenys.

Rhaegar snapped into reality and flashed a small smile. "My apologies, my lady. This is my brother, Viserys, and my sister, Daenerys. And this..." He wore a true, soft smile now as he looked down at his daughter. "This is my daughter, Rhaenys."

"How darling they are," Lady Cersei replied, eying them each. She pinched Daenerys' cheek slightly and grinned at her, commented on how strong Viserys looked, how handsome he was, and then stopped at Rhaenys.

Viserys accepted the extra weight once more as she leaned away from Cersei ever so slightly, squeezing his hand and pursing her lips. "My, doesn't she look like her mother. She's simply beautiful. We'll have so much fun together, won't we, sweet Princess?" The golden lady reached a hand out to her and expected a graceful touch of the palms, to symbolize their understanding, but Rhaenys kept to herself, looking up at him for reassurance.

He nodded to her while Rhaegar apologized, saying she was just shy and she wasn't usually like this. Hesitantly, she held her free hand out and barely touched the tip of Lady Cersei's hand before the woman pulled away and flattened her heavy skirts. Rhaegar rubbed his daughter's shoulder, but she twisted away from him and instead stood taller on her own and took her hand back from Viserys, holding her chin high. It was like something in her mind shifted and she suddenly turned into a strong force, who didn't need someone to give her strength. She _had_ it. All on her own.

And he knew she did. She had more strength than anyone he'd known- other than his mother of course- and all she needed to do was learn how to hone it and use it to her advantage. Times like now, when being meek was not an option, only being great. He saved a smile for her. This was what he loved most about Rhaenys. Not her eyes or her curls or even her trusting smile, but her strength to endure. Something he wished he had.

After Rhaegar led the Lady of Lannister inside with his father and her father and all the rest of them, Viserys had whisked Rhaenys away, leading her to the Star Garden, named for the indefinite clearness of the night sky visible from the roofless terrain. It was one of the only places in the city that the moon and stars were visible.

Silently, he sat her on the marble bench and pulled the branches from view, stabbing his fingers until they bled from the thorns in the process. _Anything to see her smile. To see her happy_. When Rhaenys' Hill was in the line of sight, Viserys took a seat beside her and she took his hands, eying the trickling blood. It wasn't much, but she was still sad.

"You didn't have to cut yourself just for me," she told him, pulling out a thorn from his thumb pad and kissing the spot as if her lips were just as medical as an ointment.

When she looked back up at him he felt himself melt. "Yes," he said as he pulled her in for a tight embrace and watched the sun's rays shine over the dragon pits, as he recalled the pain and hurt in her eyes as they stood in the courtyard just moments passed. "I did."


End file.
